Adventures Through Time, Space, and Fandoms
by Cececat
Summary: A series of adventures in which the 11th Doctor and Clara end up as parts of various films (and changing the story's outcome) or meet characters from other fandoms. Each chapter or so is its own story, though they all connect in the end as one story arc. There aren't an OCs, but a character from another time-travel related franchise plays an important role. Please Read/Review!
1. Ep 1: Wizards and Librarians

**Disclaimer: I don't own _Doctor Who_ or Terry Pratchett's wonderful _Discworld_ books. All of the characters and many of the ideas (the Roundworld Project, Ankh-Morpork, etc) are from either of those franchises which I don't own. **

**A/N: This is episode one of a series of _Doctor Who_ stories. Each episode/chapter will be it's own story, but still connect to the rest of a story arc. **

* * *

Clara was very bored. After weeks of watching the Doctor fix up a coffee maker she'd accidentally blown up, she needed more adventure. Finally he'd finished. Hopefully he'd also forgiven her…

"So... Where to now?" Clara asked as they stood in the TARDIS console room.

The 11th Doctor grinned at her. "Well, I think we need a break from all the serious stuff. A holiday."

This sounded suspicious. "Nothing dangerous, I hope."

"Nothing dangerous," The Doctor replied cheerfully.

"You're sure? No… armies of Cybermen?"

"No…"

"Green bug-eyed monsters?"

"Nope."

"Triffids?"

"What the _heck_ is a Triffid?"

Clara rolled her eyes. "Whatever. But seriously, Doctor, where are we going?"

"Sightseeing!" he shouted gleefully, opening the door.

The strange sight before them made Clara gasp. "What the...?"

They appeared to be in a horrible cross between Elizabethan London, New York City, and 19th century Yorkshire. It looked grimier than any sewer Clara had seen on her travels with The Doctor and _smelled_ like decomposing road kill. The people wandering through the marketplace the TARDIS had landed in were dressed in a wide variety of styles… and some of them didn't even look like people! Seven-foot-tall creatures humanoid made of badly carved rock (mainly granite) didn't exist on Earth. Neither did little those grayish… zombies that wandered around.

"Ah, good old Ankh-Morpork. City that all roads lead away from!" The Doctor exclaimed brightly.

"Why are we _here_?" Clara asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I wanted to visit some old friends who might even want to meet you. Lord Vetinari, the current tyrant, probably won't want to see us… but most of the Unseen University's professors enjoy the sight of a female who isn't their 60-year-old cook. And I'm sure dear old Lady Sybil would enjoy tea with you."

"Maybe. But will _I_ enjoy tea with _her_?"

To Clara's annoyance, The Doctor wasn't listening anymore. He was too busy hailing a horse drawn cab.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked.

"Unseen University, library entrance."

After only a few minutes they were in front of a huge building. The Doctor paid the cabbie, while Clara stared at the dramatic architecture in front of her.

It looked like the designer must've had five different personalities. Each wall or window was a different style, yet it all looked the same age.

"Welcome to the Unseen University for wizards!" The Doctor exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at the building in front of them.

"What sort of wizards are they? The dangerous sort?" Clara asked, raising an eyebrow.

"They're the sort that eat too much and spend most of their time telling people magic is not for messing with. The most dangerous I've ever seem 'em is when they played paintball. They can get really competitive."

Mentally chuckling at the idea of these silly sounding wizards, Clara happily followed The Doctor into the university. They walked through impressive hallways for a while. Then, they walked into the library.

To Clara's confusion, an orangutan greeted them.

The Doctor grinned. "Ah, good to see you! It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Ook?"

"Yeah, Clara's new."

"Ook."

"Who?"

"Ook, ook."

"You've got a department of Inadvisably Applied Magic? Since when?"

"Ook!"

"Okay, fine. We'll go meet him."

Clara stared blankly at The Doctor. "What?"

"The Librarian says that Professor Ponder Stibbons is having trouble with some advanced maths. He wants me to help check some of it."

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"I do believe you'd enjoy looking through some of the Librarian's books."

"You _are_ trying to get rid of me!"

By then he wasn't listening. He'd wandered off, presumably to find Professor Stibbons. Clara wasn't really sure what to do… but maybe a little sightseeing would be interesting.

Since she didn't know how to leave the place, she just wandered aimlessly through the hallways. Nobody seemed to notice her.

Unknown to her, this was because the wizards who saw her believed her to be a hallucination brought on by magical radiation. Wizards don't think the way other people do, especially since invasions of demons from the dungeon dimensions are quite commonplace at the UU.

After a while she came upon an unlocked door. She couldn't help but wonder… _what would the Doctor do?_ His answer would definitely be to enter the room just because it was locked.

So that's exactly what Clara did.

A moment later she wished she hadn't. What she found there horrified her. It couldn't be…

* * *

 _We interrupt this programme to annoy you and make things generally irritating._

* * *

Clara was in shock. Sitting there on a table was a snow globe (of sorts) with the Earth inside it. Except… it couldn't be. The Earth wasn't the size of a tennis ball. But something in Clara's brain told her that it was most definitely the Earth.

That made her mind hurt. It was just weird. Trying to wrap her head around the fact that all of London was smaller than a pinhead didn't… work.

"Who're you?" said a voice behind her.

She spun around to see a fat old man wearing a robe of some kind adorned gaudily with sequins. Atop his head sat a monstrosity of a pointy hat. It too had sequins of equal extravagance. For some reason, a crossbow hung from it. And a few boxes of matches seemed to have been tied to its brim.

Something about the look on his bearded face gave her the feeling that she was in trouble. Serious trouble. Sent-to-the-headmaster's-office-and-shouted-at-by-the-entire-faculty trouble.

Attempting to talk herself out of things couldn't make matters _much_ worse…

"Um… I was lost. My name is Clara and I'm traveling with a professor called the Doctor…"

"Very funny. Just follow-"

"I'm _not_ leaving. My friend is helping a professor here. He's helping Ponder Stibbons figure out some kind of-"

"You know that lad who's helping Professor Stibbons? He's quite the chap, I must say! Any friend of his is a friend of mine. Why didn't you say you knew him in the first place?"

Clara didn't reply. These wizards were quite ridiculous.

"Never mind. I'd better take you right to young Ponder's department. Can't have a _girl_ like you wondering about!"

To avoid telling him off for being sexist, she literally bit her tongue. These wizards weren't dangerous… just bloody annoying!

They walked through the University's many winding halls for a while. To Clara, every hallway or door looked nearly identical.

Finally, they found themselves outside a room with words painted on the door. None of the others rooms had signs, for some reason.

In large, friendly letters someone had painted: 'WARNING: Department of Inadvisably Applied Magic. Do Not Enter without permission of Professor P. Stibbons. This includes you, Archchancellor Ridcully.'

Clara chuckled to herself. It reminded her of something a teenager might write on their bedroom door when they didn't want their Mum to go through their stuff.

"I always ignore that sign. Young Ponder is rather foolish, thinking that a bit of paint can keep me out."

" _You're_ the Archchancellor?" Clara asked. She wasn't really sure what an Archchancellor was, but it sounded impressive.

"I am," he replied as he opened the door.

As Clara stepped into the room, the Archchancellor wandered back into the hall.

Clara was glad to see the Doctor sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Next to him sat a man of about 30, wearing robes similar to the Archchancellor's. Unlike the Archchancellor, however, he was extremely thin and beardless.

"Hello, Doctor," Clara said cheerfully.

The sound of her voice clearly startled him.

"I'm busy!" he shouted.

Clara raised an eyebrow. This wasn't normal behavior for the time lord. Something must be very wrong.

"With what?" she couldn't help but ask.

"Stuff you won't… _can't_ … understand. Stuff that'll upset you."

"I'm already upset enough after finding that squishy Earth-globe thingy!"

Ponder Stibbons stared at her in absolute horror. "You know about the Roundworld Project?"

"I came cross that… _thing_ while wandering through the hallways."

"I _told_ you to go to the library!" the Doctor wailed.

Clara burst out laughing. "Haven't you learned a thing about humans? Telling us to do something boring often makes us want to do the opposite. It's called Backwards Psychology… I _think_."

"Reverse Psychology," Professor Stibbons quietly corrected.

An expression of somberness suddenly appeared on Clara's face. "Seriously, though. What's the Roundworld Project?"

"Well, um… your entire world was accidentally created when a magical experiment went too far," Ponder Stibbons explained nervously.

"These fools keep meddling with half the things on Earth. I've been trying to stop them, but they never listen," the Doctor replied, pouting childishly.

"Really?" Clara asked.

Embarrassed, Stibbons nodded. "Really."

"Please stop. I mean… why would you do such a thing? I'm sure nobody on Earth knows about this. Either tell my entire planet or stop."

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Clara, I think you should stop-"

She glared coldly at him. "What would _you_ do if you found out that your planet's history was being influenced by a bunch of overweight men in red dresses and an anorexic Harry Potter lookalike?"

"I would probably be quite angry. But don't you realize we are the reason your world exists?" Ponder Stibbons replied fearfully.

"My parents are the reason I exist. Have they been controlling every bloody thing I do all my life? No!"

Tears suddenly welled in Clara's eyes at the memory of her dead mother. Fortunately for her argument, Professor Stibbons thought that those tears were shed for her planet.

"Er, I think maybe I should inform the rest of the faculty that we aren't supposed to go near the Project anymore," said Ponder, smiling nervously.

"Finally," the Doctor muttered to himself.

Clara smiled slightly and, after a while, her tears subsided.

Professor Stibbons then showed the both of them out of his office. After bidding them a quick goodbye, he locked himself away and began writing a memo to send to everyone in the entire Unseen University.

"I think I'll chat with the Librarian for a while, since he's an old friend," the Doctor explained as they walked down the hallway.

They soon found the Librarian shelving a few newly returned books to their shelves.

"Ook?" he asked once he noticed them standing there.

"I – well, _Clara_ \- convinced Professor Stibbons to stop with that stupid project of his. If you ever need help again, just contact me. You know how."

"Ook."

"Good!"

The Doctor and Clara both turned to leave…

"Ook!"

"What's wrong?" the Doctor asked, suddenly _very_ worried.

"Ook, ook."

"A mysterious message for me?"

"Ook."

"Really? It just appeared? And addressed to _me_?"

"Ook!"

"Of course I believe you. Do you have it here?"

"Ook."

"Well, hurry then. I've got to leave soon."

The Librarian climbed up a nearby bookshelf to a secret loft in the ceiling. Before Clara could ask what was going on, however, the Librarian reappeared. He clutched a piece of paper in his, er… hand?

The Librarian carefully handed the note to the Doctor. He stuffed it into his tweed jacket's pocket without even glancing at it.

"Ook?"

"I'll read it later," the Doctor replied solemnly.

Without further ado, the Time Lord and his Impossible Girl left the University and returned to the police-box shaped TARDIS.

To Clara's surprise, it hadn't been stolen. "I thought everyone is this city was a thief or something."

"There are coppers, too," said an unfamiliar (to Clara) voice.

The Doctor smiled when he noticed the tall young man standing nearby. "Carrot! You guarded it for us!"

"Kept Nobby Nobbs from stealing it, in fact."

"Thank you so very much!"

"You know me, Doctor. I'd do nearly anything for an old friend," the young man proclaimed happily.

After a bit of small talk with the young copper, Clara and the Doctor ended up back in the TARDIS.

"You didn't tell me that you knew an orangutan Librarian _or_ Wizards," Clara said with a smile.

"I didn't tell you that I knew the true heir to the throne of Ankh-Morpork, either," he replied with a wink.

After a moment, Clara understood. "That guy is royalty?"

"But there hasn't been a king in years, so he doesn't want anyone to know. His boss also happens to be a direct descendant of the man who beheaded the last king."

Clara cringed.

A little while later, after Clara had left the console room, the Doctor read the note he'd been given. He frowned in confusion at its cryptic phrasing.

* * *

 **Please review!**


	2. Ep 2: A Clue or Two

**Disclaimer: _Doctor Who_ doesn't belong to me. The movie/board game _Clue_ doesn't belong to me either. **

**A/N: This chapter is based on the movie _Clue_ , but with a few science fiction twists. Hopefully, the Doctor and Clara are in character. **

* * *

Clara was rather worried. She still wasn't sure if telling off that wizard was the best idea. Still, he'd probably stopped meddling with Earth's history.

"Clara?" the Doctor shouted from the console room.

 _Oh dear._ He sounded annoyed.

She walked into the room, mentally preparing for a half-hearted scolding. To her surprise, he was reading something on the Physic Paper.

"We've been invited to a dinner party. In 1950s New England!" Eleven said with a wild grin.

"Who's hosting it?" Clara asked.

"No idea. And we're all using aliases! They're calling me Mr. Green. We'll need to invent a name for you, since you aren't technically on the list."

"How about s-"

" _Not_ soufflé girl. That's a bit too suspicious.

"What about Miss Red? I've got a red dress."

"That's too dramatic! And there's already a Miss Scarlett."

"Can you tell me what names are already taken?"

"Peacock, White, Plum, Mustard, Green, and Scarlett."

After a moment of careful thought, Clara said: "Is 'Miss Orange' good enough?"

With a look of amusement, he nodded. A moment of thoughtful silence fell upon them.

The Doctor spoke first. "I hope I have a green bowtie, because-"

"Bows ties are cool. And I hope I have an orange dress."

"Haven't you seen my closet full of clothes from every era or planet?"

"Right."

Without further ado, the two ran off… each trying to find a stylish ensemble to wear to the party. Someone as enthusiastic as the Doctor shouldn't be allowed to choose outfits without supervision. Luckily, you can't really be late to an event when you have a time machine as your primary mean of transportation.

Clara burst out laughing when she saw the Doctor.

"You look like a leprechaun!" she cried, once she'd (mostly) stopped laughing.

"Do _not_!" he replied childishly.

"Just loose the frilly overcoat and you're fine."

So they parked the TARDIS amongst the front garden bushes. It was a dark, gloomy, stormy night. Perfect weather for a murder mystery. Though nobody yet realized, that's just what would happen.

They were greeted at the door by a stereotypical-looking butler.

"Hello. You must be Mr. Green and Miss Orange," he said in a sophisticated British accent.

"That's right," the Doctor replied cheerfully.

"My employer stated that you were the only guests already acquainted. Do come in."

After showing them into a foyer of some kind, he took their coats. Clara couldn't help but stare at the chandelier that hung above them. It somehow reminded her of the one in _The Phantom of the Opera_.

"Drinks are being served in the library. Some of the guests have already arrived, you know."

"What's your name again?" Clara asked.

"I'm the butler, Wadsworth," he replied as he opened the door.

Clara and the Doctor walked into the room. Indeed, six other people stood there. To Clara it looked like only five were actual guests. One of them was serving champagne and wearing what appeared to be a 'maid' costume from a cheap costume store. The guests all seemed a bit nervous.

"Hello… I'm Mr. Green," the Doctor said brightly, holding out his hand.

Nobody shook it.

"You lot seem a bit gloomy," said Clara.

A woman wearing an orange, feathery outfit and a mink scarf glared at Clara over her rhinestoned spectacles. "Confused, more like. Being dragged to the middle of nowhere for a dinner party and being addressed by a false name isn't something even I'm used too."

Before Clara could ask what the woman meant, they were called to dinner.

The dining room looked rather old fashioned, but in a nice way. There were candles on the table and the walls were papered with a simple pattern.

"You'll find your names by your places. Please be seated," the butler told them.

As she looked for her seat, Clara overheard the man in the dark red suit asking the butler whom the seat at the head of the table belonged to. For some reason he seemed to think it was for the butler. Apparently there was one more guest.

When she _did_ find her seat, Clara was not pleased. She was between a tall man with glasses and the feathery-orange woman. The Doctor sat all the way across the table, next to a woman wearing an emerald green dress. Judging by the expression on his face he wasn't happy either.

The maid soon served them a strange soup of some kind. It looked rather unpleasant to Clara, but the Doctor seemed to enjoy eating it. After a while, everyone (save for Clara) had dug into his or her food.

"So!" the orange-feather lady said suddenly.

The Doctor dropped his spoon in surprise. That caused soup to splash all over the woman in the green dress.

"Watch it," she told him coldly.

The orange feather lady spoke again. "I often host parties, you know. If you're the wife of a- _wait_! We aren't supposed to say who we really are. What a game it'll be! You know I really like parties, and I _do_ intend to-"

The Doctor interrupted her. "Well, then. Let's introduce ourselves. My name is Mr. Green."

"I'm Miss Scarlett," the woman in emerald said.

"I'm Mr. Mustard," said the man in the dark red suit.

"I'm Mrs. White," said a woman dressed in stylish mourning clothes.

"My name is Professor Plum," said the man next to Clara

"I'm… Miss Orange," Clara said.

"My name's Mrs. Peacock," finished the orange-feather lady.

A moment of extremely awkward silence fell upon them. Clara still hadn't tried her suspicious looking soup and almost did out of boredom. Thankfully a distraction soon appeared. Another guest.

"This is Mr. Boddy," the butler explained.

He had the look of a starved wolf trying to spot a weakness to exploit. The cruel look on his face chilled Clara.

"Are you our mystery host?" Mrs. Peacock asked.

"He too is a guest," Wadsworth the butler explained, before Mr. Boddy could even open his mouth.

Another moment of awkward silence.

"Should we now retire to the study for brandy?" the butler asked.

Everyone replied 'yes' in one way or another. Mostly via half-hearted nods or mumbled words. The appearance of the new guest had apparently unsettled everyone.

And so they all walked into the study. Wadsworth the butler picked up an envelope up off a desk. Since Clara wasn't the sort of person who liked brandy, she carefully watched the butler sort through papers. The expression of slight surprise on his face as he read made Clare extremely curious.

After a while he spoke. "You're probably wondering why you're here. Well, you're all being blackmailed. Don't deny it."

Mrs. Peacock glared at him. "How would _you_ know that? Are you the blackmailer?"

"No, _he_ isn't," Mr. Boddy said, smiling coldly. " _I_ am."

The entire room went mad. Clara froze in shock at the sight of Mrs. Peacock cheering as Mrs. White kicked and punched Mr. Boddy. Both Professor Plum and Colonel Mustard were shouting him, with the former's insults increasingly poetic.

After a while, The Doctor and Wadsworth managed to break up the fight.

"All righty, then. We know you all hate him, and for good reason. Let's try to talk it out then " the Doctor began.

Everyone stared at him the way one might stare at a mildly interesting street performer while waiting for a bus.

"…or not."  
The butler cleared his throat. "Anyway, you've all basically admitted to blackmail. And the blackmailer himself sits right in this very room. The police will be here in about forty-five minutes. Then, we can turn _him_ over and end this once and for all."

A solemn silence settled over the room. Clara knew that she wasn't being blackmailed for anything, but decided to play along for the Doctor's sake.

"I haven't admitted anything," Mrs. White said, her voice shattering the delicate silence.

Everyone ignored her.

"So, does everyone agree? Shall we turn him in?" Wadsworth asked.

Before anyone could even begin to reply, Mr. Boddy got up from his chair and walked calmly into the hall.

"You can't leave, you know. All the windows are barred!" the butler shouted.

"Calm down. I'm just getting my briefcase," came the reply.

Indeed, Mr. Boddy returned momentarily carrying a briefcase.

"I've got some… gifts for everyone," he explained with a dark chuckle.

He handed each of them a box wrapped in wrapping paper, each adorned with cheerful ribbons. To Clara's annoyance, some of the static-y paper got stuck to her dress.

But it wasn't that that made her gasp in horror. It was the bottle marked 'rat poison'. Each 'gift' was apparently a weapon.

A wrench, a candlestick, a lead pipe, a knife, a revolver, and a noose.

"I'm going to turn the light out now, so one of us can kill Wadsworth. Then we can all _quietly_ leave without any more trouble," Mr. Boddy explained.

"I don't think that's the best-" the Doctor began as Mr. Boddy turned the lights off. The sound of the pistol firing cut him off.

Both Clara and Mrs. Peacock screamed in terror.

* * *

Professor Plum turned the lights back on.

To everyone's surprise, the bullet had gone through the wall near the fireplace. It hadn't touched any of the guests.

"Oh, that gave me quite a scare…" Mrs. Peacock said, collapsing onto a couch.

"It gave _everyone_ 'quite a scare'," replied Clara.

Suddenly, Mrs. White gave out a little shriek of horror. "Look! He's dead!"

"Who?" Mrs. Peacock and the Doctor asked at the same time.

"Mr. Boddy," replied Clara, her eyes wide with shock.

He lay facedown on the floor, blood pooling from a forehead wound. Though Clara had met her fair share of homicidal aliens, this still scared her. Somebody in this room did that. A human just like herself!

"Oh, he's ruining the carpet!" the butler cried.

Everyone glared at him.

He shrugged. "Well, it _is_ my job to make sure everything's tidy. I'll get Yvette to clean it up."

Nobody objected to that… at least not verbally. The seven guests stood there, avoiding looking into each other's eyes.

"Seeing how you reacted to the blackmail thing, I'm sure nobody's going to confess to this," Clara said thoughtfully.

"Well, it's not like we even know who's getting blackmailed for what. Maybe a bit more honesty will help," the eleventh Doctor said.

"Doctor?" Clara whispered, "The first rule of being your friend is that you lie."

" _They_ don't know that."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Whatever."

"But what are we going to do about the fact that Mr. Boddy is now a _dead_ body!" Mrs. Peacock shrieked hysterically.

"We're going to figure out who killed him," Professor Plum replied simply.

"So when the police arrive we can turn him in!" the Doctor shouted, his eyes agleam with excitement. Solving mysteries is fun.

"It might be a 'her'," Clara pointed out with a shrug.

Mrs. White nodded. "It could be anyone."

"So… who had a blunt instrument? That means candlestick, lead pipe, or wrench," said the Doctor.

Apparently he'd forgotten that everyone was supposed to be telling his or her secrets now. Not that the other minded…

"Well, I had the wrench in the first place. But I've been sitting across the room the entire time!" Miss Scarlett explained.

That didn't seem like it was going to work. Most people had dropped their weapons in surprise. Anyone could've picked up something.

"Maybe we should collect all the weapons and see which one has blood on it?" Clara asked.

"Clever idea," Colonel Mustard said cheerfully.

"Well then? Where are the weapons?"

Without further ado the seven guests piled the coffee table with seven weapons. To everyone's surprise, there didn't appear to be blood on any of them.

The Doctor got his Sonic Screwdriver out of his pocket and began scanning the weapons.

"What's he doing?" whispered Mrs. White.

"Scanning the weapons for traces of blood," Clara replied.

"None of these were used for hurting anyone. Not the slightest trace of blood…" he muttered.

"What killed Mr. Boddy, then!" Mrs. Peacock shrieked.

"We don't know!" shouted Professor Plum, annoyed at the woman.

Nobody spoke for a while. The only sound came from the crackling fireplace and the buzzing Sonic Screwdriver.

Suddenly, the Doctor shouted. "Aha! For once, the butler did it!"

"Speaking of which, where _is_ the butler?" asked Mrs. Scarlett.

"I think he left to find Yvette the maid, so that she could clean Mr. Boddy's blood off the carpet," Mrs. White said thoughtfully.

Miss Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "I bet he's found her by now. He's probably up to something, since Yvette was only in the kitchen when he left the room."

They all walked to the kitchen. Together, nobody could hurt them. Or so they reasoned. Clara suspected that someone here wasn't human… or that they were not from this time period… or _something_.

When the got to the kitchen, they found Wadsworth the butler typing on a keyboard of some kind. It appeared to be built into the wall. Yvette was nowhere to be found… or so it seemed.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" the Doctor asked.

The butler stared at him. "Mr. Green? Whatever do you mean?"

"Are you a robot or a shapeshifter or _what_? I know you're something that doesn't belong in 20th century New England. Or anywhere on earth for that matter. Who are you?"

"I'm a butler who used to work for Mr. Boddy," he insisted.

The Doctor began scanning Mr. Boddy with the screwdriver. "Ha! A hologram. I knew something was wrong with you!"

"What's he going on about?" whispered Mrs. Peacock.

"No idea," Clara replied.

"So what are you doing here? What's the point?"

The holographic butler began to flicker wildly. "To find… life is like…. this planet. My master…. know…"

And then he disappeared entirely.

Mrs. Peacock fainted dramatically. Everyone else looked extremely nervous.

"Everyone, go back to your cars. Go home. If the police really have been called they won't be here for a while. Just leave."

The Doctor began shooing people out (Mrs. Peacock had regained consciousness after Mrs. White kicked her).

After they'd all gone, Clara and the Doctor left.

"Should we really leave now?" Clara asked.

"It's none of our business, what happens next. Their government can handle it. We _should_ leave now," replied the Doctor.

As they stood in the console room, Clara couldn't help but worry. Something seemed wrong.

Something about the holographic person.

* * *

 **A/N: Please Review!**


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